


Not Again

by xoAssassino



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Flash Fic, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, One Shot, Past Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Short One Shot, Werewolf Turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22064179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoAssassino/pseuds/xoAssassino
Summary: War never stops, whether they're government-sanctioned or in your own head.Some days are better than others and Jacob feels like he has everything under control.Then there are the times where it all comes crashing down.It may not be the end of the world, but it's the end of his.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 12





	Not Again

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I haven't posted a project since September of 2017?? Well, now that it's 2020, this is my motivation to release more of my writing! Cheers to a new year, everyone. Chase your dreams despite the fears and doubts you have about yourself; you CAN do this!

Jacob’s eyes fixated on the Mountain Bluebird that made itself comfortable on the window sill. Its high-pitched chirping was melodic, the sound guiding his thoughts to those of his childhood days. Most of the memories were not pleasant; others, even less so. Yet, the ones spent running barefoot through the nearby neighborhood forest, the smell of pine filling his nostrils while damp dirt lodged itself between his toes, were memories that kept him sane. If there was one thing redeemable about Hope County, Montana, it was that very same untouched wilderness that reminded him of the times that weren’t so bad. The moments of tranquility during a never-ending storm. Even with both of his brothers alive, safe, and at his side, Mother Nature was still his only constant of peace.

Peace; an unusual ideology that the ginger-haired man spent an unusual amount of time thinking about. Was peace a truly achievable state? The New Eden that Joseph practically spent his entire life building, would have a base of blood and carcasses. Then again, what leading civilization lacked those very foundations? Behind every seemingly harmonious society is one that has only known conflict; something that has followed him his entire life.

Jacob’s cool blue eyes relaxed on the bird, his train of thought making him oblivious to the world around him. A sudden noise, someone clearing their throat, broke his trance. Jacob’s eyes darted to its origin. There sat a man slightly younger, though really only distinguishable by the lack of scars on his face. His dark brown hair was combed neatly and tied back into a bun, his facial hair trimmed and less wild than Jacob’s. Joseph Seed, known as “the Father,” though more importantly, his younger brother.

“Does something trouble you, Jacob?” Joseph’s voice was low and monotone, his mirroring blue eyes staring into Jacob’s.

The ginger-haired man let out a sigh, irritated that something so minute managed to startle him and interrupt his thoughts.

“No, Joseph,” the reply was quick and flat.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be lying to Father like that,” a singsong voice intervened. Jacob rolled his eyes; of course, she had to always say something on Joseph’s behalf. His gaze turned to meet his “little sister’s,” as everyone seemed to be fond of calling her. Joseph might have granted her the last name “Seed,” but Jacob never accepted her as one. 

“Faith, I really don’t need your shit today,” he retorted coldly, rubbing his eyelids.

“Jacob-”

“Joseph!” The ginger-haired man slammed his fists on the table, rattling the silverware. “No. Just, don’t. Okay? I don’t need to hear this right now.” 

All eyes were now on him, while the air around them swirled with tension. John, the youngest of the brothers, managed to stay quiet this entire time. Picking at his food, he hesitated to meet Jacob’s cold eyes but did so with softness. Letting out a weak smile, his head immediately dropped, not wanting to keep eye contact for long. That made Jacob’s heart slightly ache. Though to most people the gesture would seem insignificant, he was all too familiar with that type of hesitation; the fear of someone snapping. It brought back demons from his childhood he fought long and hard to lay to rest. Demons that he tried his damnedest to protect both Joseph and John from; the ones that ended up dancing with him on the battlefield during his Afghanistan and Iraq tours. Averting his hardened gaze from his brothers and Faith, he abruptly got up from his chair, leaving his plate of cooked steak and assorted vegetables untouched.

Of course dinner had to be held at the Jessop Conservatory; objectively nicer in aesthetics, but also horrendously far from the St. Francis Veteran’s Center. Despite this, Jacob opted to travel back on foot, traversing the expansive mountains and thick forests of Hope County. Too much began to weigh on his mind, from his outburst during what was supposed to be a peaceful dinner, to the child-like regression on John’s face, and making sense of his own feelings. More than three decades have passed and those emotions were still nothing but a chaotic mess he wanted nothing to do with.

Being raised by a monster forced the oldest brother to grow up at a young age, and to care for his siblings once the time finally came that they would escape the wrath of Old Man Seed. Life had not been kind to any of them since, almost as if a curse had plagued the Seed name through their father’s religious-based abuse. From the smacks to the kicks, to the whippings of father’s worn leather belt, violence only begets violence; that poison passed from one sad, whiskey-scented man, into a war-hardened veteran. Hardened only by the lives he was forced to take to survive.

Jacob shook his head and began to jog, while the sun began to disappear under the horizon. His chest was tightening and it felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders. Every so often he would stop and physically try to shake away the feeling, but to no avail.

His time in the Army was supposed to be the years that he could turn his life around for the better, to leave the life of crime behind, and make a difference serving the country. Jacob soon found out that governed warfare was nothing short of crimes against humanity carried out by expendable pawns. Brothers-in-arms that he held onto tightly as they desperately clung onto the life they didn’t have the chance to live - some soldiers no more than 25 years old. And Miller...

 _ **"NO!"**_ Jacob yelled out, pressing his hands against the temples of his head.

Now he broke into a light sprint. Something made him feel uneasy, as a sense of dread began to close in. Around him were the same trees and mountainous terrain that he was already familiar with, yet he didn’t feel safe like something was out of place. 

The beautiful purples, oranges, and soft yellows that melded in the sky were soon consumed by the black of night’s embrace. Jacob wasn’t sure how much further he had now that most of his vision was obscured from the lack of light, but it didn’t bother him. Hearing twigs and leaves crunch underneath his footsteps and allowing the pine to fill his sense of smell, calmed him down a little bit. Perhaps tomorrow he would go back and apologize, though mostly out of obligation. Though Joseph and John understood the reasons behind his short fuse, Faith didn’t, and Jacob knew he needed to spare the young girl’s feelings and put his ego aside. Letting out an exasperated sigh, the sudden explosion of gunfire in the distance, coupled by battle cries and shouts of anguish, sent Jacob’s fight or flight response into overdrive.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as his feet flew over leaves and broken branches, trying to get a line of sight on the commotion. He left his weapons at the Conservatory aside from his hunting knife at the side strap on his leg. Just as he was nearing the fight, a sudden pain halted Jacob’s movement and toppled him onto the Earth in excruciating pain. Not a grunt or groan could be heard, as it felt like something lodged itself into Jacob’s throat, hindering him from breathing. Rolling onto his back and hopelessly grabbing at his neck, he began to notice the tufts of hair growing along his forearms.

_No, no, no!_

What were once regular human hands were now large, hairy, and dangerously clawed ones of a beast. Bones began to lengthen, pop, and snap into place, as the skin stretched over the new form being molded underneath. Captivating ocean blue eyes now night-vision heightened yellow eyes of a predator. His transformation from man to beast was almost completed when his face contorted and split to allow for the snout to push through.

There was no stopping this.

He had no control.

There was no making peace with the trauma.

He was no longer himself.

 _Not again…_ His inner monologue began to fade. _Not again..._

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's short, but it's a start in the right direction! On top of my experimentation with a different transformation criteria into a werewolf, I know my depiction of PTSD was sloppy, and I hope I didn't offend anyone with this piece. This has been a draft for several months and I did as much research as I could before deciding to publish it. Plus, I really LOVE Jacob Seed. Constructive criticism is always welcomed! <3


End file.
